Infinite Hoarder: Storage of the Void

Chapter 3: Storing the Curse

The clearing was suffocating. The scent of ozone from the ritual overlapped with the metallic, sharp tang of old blood and the sickly-sweet aroma of decaying mana. Baskara knelt beside the ritual stone, his knees sinking into the soft, ash-stained earth.

“She’s looking pretty rough,” Baskara said, leaning over the woman. Her skin, once deep blue, was now marbled with jagged streaks of neon violet. “It’s like a cracked phone screen, but with magic.”

The archer stood guard, her bow drawn toward the dark shadows of the trees. “Can you do it or not? Every second you waste, the Rot drinks more of her soul.”

“Hey, give me a second to calibrate,” Baskara snapped back, his eyes darting between the woman’s face and the blue interface hovering in front of his nose. “Do you have any idea how complicated this is? I’m essentially trying to figure out if a magical infection counts as a tangible object.”

“How is that complicated?” the archer hissed. “Look at it! It is right there!”

“Is it, though?” Baskara reached out, his hand hovering just inches from the woman’s forehead. “To you, it’s a curse. To the system, it might just be... I don’t know, metaphysical spam. If it doesn’t have a weight class, I can’t put it in the box.”

“You said you were a logistics hero!”

“Exactly! Logistics! If I try to ship a concept, I might crash my internal server!” Baskara squinted at the glowing violet veins. C’mon, think. Mass is mass. If it can kill her, it has to be taking up physical space within her mana-circuits. If I treat her body as the storage unit and the curse as the inventory item...

“Wait, let me try something,” he muttered. “Item ID request... searching for local entities... filtered by ‘non-consensual magical resonance’.”

The interface blinked rapidly. Red text flickered: [Error: Living Target identified.]

“Ugh, stupid safety protocols,” Baskara growled. “I know she’s alive! I’m not trying to store her.”

The woman on the stone let out a ragged, low groan. Her eyes fluttered open for a split second, revealing nothing but a milky-white void.

“Mayari!” the archer called out, though she didn’t lower her weapon. “Stay with us!”

“Mayari, huh? Nice name. Very rhythmic,” Baskara said, sweat dripping down his temple. “Okay, Mayari, listen. I’m going to try to pack your problems into a very small, very dark closet. It’s going to feel like... well, like a really bad sneeze.”

“Hurry,” Mayari whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the violet flames. “They... they are coming.”

“Yeah, yeah, the ritualists. I’m on it,” Baskara said. He adjusted his focus, narrowing his vision until all he saw were the lines of energy. “System! Manual override. Redefining target: [Curse: Night Rot]. Parameter: Isolate by-product mass from organic host. Classification: Hazardous Material.”

The interface hesitated. The wheel spun.

[Validating target... Target: Void Element By-Product (Mass: 0.04kg). Ready for logistics handling.]

“Zero point zero four kilograms? That’s it?” Baskara let out a short, hysterical laugh. “Forty grams of death. That’s lighter than a chocolate bar.”

“Do it!” the archer demanded.

“Store!” Baskara bellowed, slamming his palm toward Mayari’s chest.

There was a sound like a vacuum seal being broken, a sharp, wet pop that echoed through the entire clearing. The neon violet veins on Mayari’s skin didn't fade, they were literally sucked out of her pores. Tiny, ribbon-like shards of dark energy flew toward Baskara’s hand, disappearing into a square of shimmering blue light.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Mayari’s body arched once, a long, shuddering gasp escaping her lungs, and then she went limp against the ritual stone.

“Is she dead?” the archer asked, her voice trembling for the first time. “Human, if you killed her, I will put an arrow through your other eye.”

“First of all, I still have both my eyes, thanks,” Baskara said, wiping his brow with his sleeve. “And second... look at her pulse.”

He pointed to the hollow of Mayari’s throat. A steady, rhythmic beat was already visible beneath the skin. The violet marbling was gone, replaced by a healthy, deep indigo flush.

[Item Stored: Curse: Night Rot (x1). Weight: 0.04kg. Warning: Item contains active entropic energy.]

“I did it,” Baskara whispered, his hands shaking. “I actually shelved a literal death wish.”

Mayari groaned again, but this time it was different. She rolled onto her side, coughing up a small amount of grey liquid that hissed when it hit the stone. She looked up at Baskara, her vision clearing.

“Who... who are you?” she rasped, her eyes focusing on his plain, dirt-covered clothes.

“I’m the delivery guy,” Baskara said, giving her a tired thumbs-up. “Your package was scheduled for delivery to the afterlife, but I decided to hold it at the local depot instead.”

Mayari blinked, confused. She looked at the archer. “Valen? Where... where are the acolytes?”

“They will be back any moment,” Valen, the archer, said, finally lowering her bow slightly. “But this human... he saved you. He put the Rot inside his magic box.”

“You put it... inside?” Mayari looked at Baskara with a mix of awe and horror. “You are carrying that darkness within you? Do you not feel your mind splintering?”

“Nah,” Baskara said, checking his inventory stats. “It’s in slot three, right next to the arrow from earlier and a spare turnip I found in the wagon. It’s categorized. It’s safe. Everything is easier when it’s categorized.”

“You talk like a madman,” Mayari muttered, though she managed to push herself up into a sitting position. “But the weight... it is gone. For the first time in moons, I can breathe without feeling the thorns.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Baskara said, his expression suddenly shifting into a sharp, focused mask. “I’m picking up some heavy vibrations. Five-meter interval footfalls. Multiple targets. They’re running.”

Valen’s head snapped toward the path. “The high priests. They will know the seal has been broken.”

“How many?” Baskara asked.

“At least six acolytes and a master,” Valen replied, nocking another arrow. “We need to move. Mayari cannot run yet.”

“We’re not moving,” Baskara said, standing up. He felt a weird, cold pressure in his mind—the mental weight of the ‘Rot’ sitting in his inventory. “My brain is currently hosting a very grumpy curse, and honestly, the math is starting to give me a headache. I need to clear some space.”

Mayari gripped the edge of the stone. “What are you doing? They are powerful mages.”

“Oh, I know,” Baskara said, a dangerous grin spreading across his face. “But logistics is all about timing. If I hold onto something for too long, it loses value. If I deliver it right back to the sender...”

“You mean...” Valen started, her eyes wide.

“I have about fifty grams of concentrated void energy and a hundred and fifty joules of arrow velocity waiting to be processed,” Baskara said. He turned to face the treeline as the first violet-robed figure burst through the brush, a staff held high. “And I really hate carrying heavy loads for free.”

The ritualist stopped, his eyes widening as he saw Mayari sitting up. “The sacrifice! What have you done, intruder?”

“Your shipment was rejected,” Baskara called out, his blue window expanding until it took up half of his vision. “Return to sender!”

“Kill them!” the ritualist screamed, gesturing to the figures behind him. “Reclaim the Rot!”

“Sure thing, pal,” Baskara whispered. “Targeting verified. Let’s see what happens when I hit the 'Mass Release' button.”

He thrust both hands forward. The air in front of him began to ripple with a dark, violet light.

“First class express delivery,” Baskara grinned. “And I’m not even asking for a signature.”